


Lean on me

by CalmIsOverrated



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caretaker Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Requited Love, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmIsOverrated/pseuds/CalmIsOverrated
Summary: Demons normally aren’t vulnerable to human sicknesses. Normally meaning they haven’t held a car together through pure determination, paused time, and stop the apocalypse. Crowley deserves some rest.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 131





	Lean on me

**Author's Note:**

> Probably a stand in title because I suck at coming up with them.
> 
> I found this incredibly self-indulgent fic buried in my docs, so I decided to post it. Idk why. It’s not very good, and probably really ooc. The more time I spend editing the less I want to post it but whatever allons-y. 
> 
> Feel free to fight me on tumblr if you want: Calm-is-overrated

Every bone in Crowley's body harbored a deep ache. Even the demonic energy inside of him was weaker than it usually was, too weak to shield the demon from the trials of the day. Barely a buzz in his core. After all the miracles he'd pulled off that day he wasn't surprised, but that didn't make him less sore. There was a pounding behind his eyes, demanding that he sleep for the next few months. He was a powerful demon, that didn't mean he was invincible however.

The demon gave a huff and rested his head against the glass of the bus window. The hand in his squeezes gently as though trying to not hurt him, and he can feel the blue eyed stare of concern from the angel besides him.

“Crowley, my love, are you alright?”

He anticipated the question, Crowley's mouth was already open to answer, but his eyes popped open after his tired brain registered the pet-name. He turned just slightly to see Aziraphale better. The angel's face was a bit red, a notable look of surprise on his face.

Ah, he thought, a mistake then. He could spare Aziraphale further embarrassment by not bringing it up, as much as his heart ached to do that. “Fine. Just tired… Very tired.”

“Oh Crowley,” the angel's thumb started making circles on his hand. “Rest when we get to your apartment. You deserve it.”

Oh right. They were going back to his apartment, Aziraphale’s shop was gone. “You can take the bed, I'll take the couch.” He opened his mouth in a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Nonsense, I don't sleep,” but even as the angel said it he stifled a yawn. It seemed humans weren't the only ones with contagious yawns. Aziraphale shook his head. “Regardless of whether I'm tired or not, I don't sleep. I've never been able to get the act down like you, my dear.”

“C’n teach you,” the demon let his head fall back against the window with his eyes closed. The headache was making it hard to filter his words. He cleared his throat, he was surprised to feel a dull ache. He was expecting Aziraphale to respond with some witty remark about how there were too many books to read.

“Perhaps at a later time,” the angel tutted at the way Crowley was sitting, surely it looked uncomfortable. Without really thinking he placed a hand on the demon’s arm and pulled him to rest on his shoulder. Now Crowley's back didn't resemble an accordion, it wasn't much better though. The seats were cramped and the bus rocked and jerked back and forth, but both of them quietly savored the moment, too afraid to say anything else. He could feel the warmth emanating through his suit where Crowley was resting against him. He put a hand to the demon's forehead and was shocked to find it burning hot.

Crowley was, in fact, very cold blooded. Always feeling a bit on the chilly side. But that's the way demons were. Despite the idea of hellfire and being hotter than the sun, Hell was actually freezing cold. To add onto that, the demon that was practically laying on him, also had a reptilian counterpart. This didn't sit well with Aziraphale.

“Crowley, you're burning up!” Aziraphale gave the man a good shake to rouse him. The angel was extremely thankful it worked and the demon leveled a weaker-than-usual glare over his askew sunglasses. He cupped Crowley's face in his hands, having to mentally remark on the warmth he found, and turned him to look the angel in his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” he huffed, which then turned into a cough that he covered with his fist. Aziraphale patted him on the back as they waited for the fit to end.

“My dear, I think you're sick,” the angel says with a bit of uncertainty leaking into his tone.

“That's impossible,” Crowley looked appalled at the idea of being ill. He shut his eyes against a particularly painful pang from his head. “I'm a demon. I don't get sick. I can't.” Not entirely a true statement. If something happened to their wings or true forms they could get sickly. But that didn't seem to be the case.

“Love, you've been exerting yourself all day.” Aziraphale took the demon's face in his hands and turned him to look directly in his eyes. “You stopped time. I think you might've been drained enough to catch a human ailment. We were with Adam and his young friends. It's possible they may have passed something onto you.”

Crowley's brain had stopped functioning when the angel's hands had touched his face. His hands were very warm. The demon had the urge to just rest with Aziraphale at his side and be able to curl around him, steal his warmth and love like the greedy snake he was.

“Crowley? Can you hear me?” The worry in Aziraphale’s voice was notable.

The demon startled out of the doze he'd fallen into. He was surprised to find his eyes had closed and he hadn't realized it. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Aziraphale. “‘M alright. Jus’ tired angel.” He seemed to slump further with a harsh cough. All Aziraphale could do was scramble to hold Crowley up and not let him fall on the floor.

He felt Crowley's burning cheeks again, the demon subconsciously leaned into the cool touch. “It'll be alright my dear.” There was only a few more minutes until they got to the demon's apartment. The angel just had to keep his cool until then, then he could freak out and fuss over the demon.

When the bus finally stopped Aziraphale was able to rouse the pliant demon long enough to get him in the apartment. When he opened the door the smell of holy water hit him. He found the still steaming puddle of melted demon. He snapped it away without a second thought as he half-lead, half-carried Crowley to his bedroom.

The demon collapsed on the bed and curled up under the sheets. His face was still red with a fever so Aziraphale made a small tutting noise. He went to go get a wet rag and cool water. As he turned though, a hand wrapped around his wrist, it was attached to a miserable looking demon.

“Stay,” he croaked.

Aziraphale blinked. “Of course, Crowley. I'll be right back,” the angel felt a bit like he was talking to a child. “I need to get you a few things. Allow me?”

The demon frowned and let his grip loosen around the other's wrist. Aziraphale beamed and squeezed Crowley’s hand softly and left.

When Aziraphale came back into the room he had one of Crowley’s very few bowls balanced in one of Aziraphale’s hands, while the other was carrying a small novel. He placed the book down on the side table and carefully sat down on the bed and realized they were both in their regular clothes. He snapped and changed himself both into much more comfortable and lighter nightclothes. Aziraphale felt bad for having to disturb him. The demon didn’t voice a protest though, just made a small, almost amused noise at the dark tartan pajamas he was now wearing.

Aziraphale wrung out the rag and placed it on Crowley's exposed neck. The demon did a full body shiver, along with a hiss of distaste and tried to get away. “Stop squirming, you wily snake.” Aziraphale huffed and managed to get him to calm down enough to let the rag do its thing. He allowed himself to push the hair off of Crowley’s fever flushed face. “Try to rest, my dear. We’ll see if human medicine will do you any good.”

Human medicine was unlikely to actually help, just it was easy enough to miracle up. Then again, demons weren't supposed to get sick either. And it couldn't hurt. Aziraphale summoned up some cough syrup with fever relief. Then he miraculously managed to force it into Crowley's uncooperative mouth. But until it started working-  _ if _ it started working- they'd have to lower his fever the old fashioned way.

Every few minutes he would refresh the rag when it began to get warm. In between checking his temperature and changing the rag, he would read, outloud so Crowley could hear too. While Crowley was sleeping off the fever Aziraphale made a quick venture into his kitchen, to see if he had any tea for the demon’s throat, something Crowley hadn’t exactly voiced but it was obvious it was bothering him.

The stark white of the plain walls almost reminded him of heaven, there wasn’t a single colorful decoration in sight. Not to his surprise most of the cabinets held wine or various other types of liquor or were entirely empty. But Aziraphale managed to find one filled with tea and various things to add to it. He managed to make some chamomile and honey. Crowley was awake, clearly not all there, the feverish glaze of his eyes wavered when he saw Aziraphale. The demon at first refused, but after Aziraphale got him to take the first sip he soon after drained the whole cup.

The next few hours were spent occasionally getting up to refresh the water and rag and redosing the medicine- the fever finally started breaking. Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief, he would be just fine.

Aziraphale ran his fingers through his hair and the demon started to stir. A pair of gold eyes fluttered open then back closed, too much effort to keep them open. His forehead scrunched up in a momentary show of pain, headache maybe.

“‘Zi’ral?”

Aziraphale paused, he hadn’t meant to wake him up. Crowley pressed his head against Aziraphale’s hand and the angel resumed carding his fingers through the demon’s hair. “Crowley, how do you feel?”

“Tired,” the demon answered, his voice was hoarse and it sounded painful.

“The fever’s going down. Sleep, my dear.” He received a muffled sound of agreement from Crowley and the demon drifted off. Aziraphale hoped the demon would not remember this in the morning. There was something thrilling about letting himself show affection for Crowley. Just as long as it didn't mess up their relationship. He leaned forwards to remove the glasses from Crowley’s face. On a whim he ran a hand through the sweaty locks then pressed a kiss on Crowley's forehead all in one movement before retreating away and laying down.

He could feel as Crowley's breathing slowly settled into something more natural. He tried reading for a little bit longer but eventually he gave in to his exhaustion and settled down next to his Crowley. He wished he could gather the lanky demon in his arms, safe and sound, but he would settle for being this close. He closed his eyes and matched Crowley's soft breathing. Even though he'd never really gotten the hang of it, with the demon next to him, he was asleep in minutes.  


* * *

Crowley felt warm, but it wasn’t like the burning heat that had consumed him before. It was comforting,  _ safe _ . Next thing he realized was there was someone else in his bed, he was laying next to said person- Aziraphale he dimly recognized- right against his side. Crowley opened his eyes and craned his head up just to make sure. For a moment he took in the angel, there was a book resting next to Crowley’s head, softly rising and falling stomach. For a moment he wondered how they'd gotten here, his memory was muddled from the fever- oh. The fever. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of memories he seemed to be missing.

Cringing away from the cold as a wet rag was applied to the back of his neck. “Stop squirming, you wily snake.” It was said with so much care it almost hurt his chest.

The human medicine Aziraphale had given him- forced down his throat- tasted horrible and it stuck in his throat, thick and hard to get down. The constant throbbing of pain from his head and throat made it hard to remember many parts.

He’d been roused by a hand in his hair. Crowley mumbled Aziraphale’s name, confused and more exhausted than he had been since his fall. He’d stopped. Crowley didn’t want him to. He was glad when Aziraphale returned to stroking through his hair. “Crowley, how do you feel?” “Tired.” An understatement, Aziraphale seemed to understand this. “The fever’s going down. Sleep, my dear.” Crowley agreed with that, he was nearly asleep when he felt a pair of lips pressing against his forehead. He didn’t have a chance to analyze that as he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The demon was flushing at the memories, his heart pounding at the overwhelming amount of  _ love _ and  _ care  _ coming from those brief moments. Even as a demon who couldn’t instinctually feel those things. That also happened to be the exact same time Aziraphale opened one of his beautiful blue eyes and noticed Crowley’s flushed complexion. “Oh dear, is the fever back?” A hand was placed on his forehead. Obviously he felt cool skin under his hand and he raised a questioning gaze on Crowley.

“Ngk. Angel, I'm fine,” he reassured.

“Are you sure, my dear? You scared me last night. I feared today would be much the same.” The concern and underplaying fear in Aziraphale’s voice was killing him. Smothering the demon in feeling. He didn't know how to handle it, so he deflected.

“I know, I remember parts of it,” the demon stated. He realized how out of it he'd been. It would've made him feel weak and frustrated he had been with anyone else. He was thankful he hadn't crashed at the wheel of his Bentley, not that it could have much worse of a fate.

“Oh,” Aziraphale looked somewhat like that of a child who's been stealing cookies from the jar. “How much?”

“Enough.” Crowley pegged the angel with a somewhat mischievous look that said he'd been caught. A small grin found its way onto his face as Aziraphale awkwardly shuffled beside him.

“I'm sorry, Crowley. We can just ignore everything if you want. Nothing has to change, I'm happy with the way things are regardless.” He paused, before looking up to Crowley. “But I would like you to know that I don't like you.”

That surprised Crowley enough he didn’t respond right away. Crowley blinked as the words finally registered and his face fell. That was decidedly not what he'd been expecting. “What?”

“I love you, you wily demon! And whether you feel it should be platonic or not to reciprocate is entirely up to yo-” Crowley grabbed the front of the angel's pajamas and pulled Aziraphale close to his face. It was almost a mimicry of that day in the church.

Aziraphale stopped talking immediately, he looked decidedly terrified and upset. His eyes darted to the side, trying very hard to not look at the demon. The realization hit Crowley. He was afraid he'd messed up their friendship that was nearly older than the human race.

“Stop, don't so terrified. Ever. Not around me and definitely not  _ at _ me,” Crowley said, the angel's eyes met his in a millisecond. The demon took a deep breath and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The angel froze underneath him, for a moment, Crowley was afraid this was going too fast.

But then the angel started kissing back, his hands reaching up to cover the demon’s. It was quick, rushed and Crowley broke it off too soon. He placed a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s nose as an apology and he moved back to take in his entire expression. The angel's mouth was slightly gaping, turned up a little bit at the corners, at the turn of events.

“Angel, I've been in love with you since you decided to give away your flaming sword to a couple of outcasts that'd been thrown out of the garden.” He placed another kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek. The angel moved to do the same and reconnect the kiss but Crowley gave him with a quick look, asking him to not interrupt. Aziraphale understood, the demon had something to say. Something he'd probably wanted to say for a long time.

“Aziraphale, even if I didn't happen to be madly in love with you, I could never bear to lose you. I would die for you, I would do anything for you. I have been yours for a very long time. And I wish to stay that way for the rest of eternity. I have no desire to ever leave.” This kiss was placed on the corner of Aziraphale’s lips. The angel's eyes were huge, a bit teary. The sap, Crowley thought affectionately.

Crowley released his grip, letting their hands tangle, and sat back for a moment and watched Aziraphale’s face. The demon was scared he'd see regret or fear, but he couldn't find a trace. There were a few emotions cycling across the angel's face. But the most obvious one was love, and it was all directed  _ at _ him. The demon barely refrained from squirming under the gaze leveled at him.

“Crowley…” the angel breathed out. This time he was the one to reach out and bring Crowley closer. The demon let Aziraphale tug him to his side. Take his face in his hands, no glasses to hide his eyes this time. Until finally he leaned forward and pressed their lips together for the second time that night in a slow, happy kiss. Crowley let his eyes slip shut and put his hands around Aziraphale’s waist.

It lasted for a few moments before Crowley stopped to yawn which dissolved into a harsh cough. Although the fever was gone he was still exhausted and sick, no demonic miracles from him for a while. The demon huffed when Aziraphale started chuckling at him.

Aziraphale made them both lay down and pulled the covers up to their shoulders. He did have to commend Crowley for having such a comfortable bed. After a few moments of quiet breathing Aziraphale couldn't resist anymore. He reached over and gathered the demon in his arms, Crowley seemed to have no problems curling around him.

The angel’s face was pressed against Crowley's bright red hair, taking in the smell of overly expensive wine and leather that made a wholly unique and Crowley smell. Azirphale’s hand was lazily stroking up and down the demon's silk covered back and he felt Crowley’s hand slip under his shirt to lazily trace patterns on his skin.

Even though he was an angel, exiled as he was, this was his heaven. Being here, with Crowley besides him. He would trade every book in his shop if this could be his existence forever. He knew the demon felt the exact same way.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss onto his forehead and let it rest there, his red hair tickled his nose but he didn't care. He felt the demon's breathing begin to even out under his arms as sleep started tugging at his consciousness. The angel's eyes were getting harder to keep open, so he didn't. He let them fall shut and the sound of Crowley's quiet snores lull him as he followed the demon into a peaceful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Neither seemed particularly keen on getting up and doing anything with their day. They were immortal and had many more days ahead of them. They were perfectly content to waste the day away if it was in the other's arms~
> 
> Let's pretend Heaven and Hell were like eh whatever. It's not like they actually do much, and just decided to ignore them forever. Their names are banned from even being mentioned.


End file.
